


Bring It On

by downdeepinside



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baloons, Chillies, Domestic, Doomsday ruined my life, Fluff, Labour Induction, M/M, Mpreg, Raspberry Leaf Tea, pineapple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:06:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downdeepinside/pseuds/downdeepinside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is 41 weeks pregnant and has been told if his waters haven't broken by the end of the week he'll have to be induced at the hospital. </p><p>Of course, Sherlock's not okay with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring It On

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is mpreg so if you don't like it I recommend you don't read this. Also it features characters from this TV show called 'Sherlock'. Unfortunately, I don't own that.
> 
> Once again I wrote this rather quickly and I am human so there may be mistakes - if you see any and point them out I'd appreciate it.
> 
> Erm, and that's it. Thank you for reading and I hope you like it (-:
> 
> (And the title is the definition of induce - since I thought 'Induce' in it's self was a pretty crap title)

John climbed the stairs to the flat, shopping bag containing chillies, pineapple, raspberry leaf tea, and balloons in hand. He pushed the door to the upstairs flat open with his elbow and let out a resigned sigh of ‘dear God I married a crazy person’ as he took in the scene in front of him. His partner, now 41 weeks pregnant, was pacing the flat and - despite insisting he’d never do so - panting heavily while pressing down on his large stomach with a great deal of force. The army doctor let the door swing shut behind him and the loud click made Sherlock pause and look up in surprise, before smiling and waddling (by this point in the pregnancy it really  _was_  a waddle) over to greet the older man.

“Did you get the chillies?”

“Yes,”

“The hottest you could find?”

“Ah, yes,”

“And the pineapple?”

“Of course-”

“Raspberry tea?”

“Raspberry  _leaf_  tea. There’s a difference.”

Sherlock smiled, John clearly having passed the test, before reaching for the bag and rummaging through it. He pulled out a packet of brightly colour balloons and frowned, “Why did you get these?”

John felt his ears turn red and he shrugged, “I read somewhere it’s good. To, er, help induce labour. I assumed that was what all this,” he waved a hand at the bag, “Was about?”

Sherlock’s smile broke into a grin and he pulled out the tea, “Very good John!” he squinted at the box for a moment before dropping it onto the table and turning to continue his pacing, “We’ll start with the tea.”

John sighed his sigh again.

***

By the time John had found two clean mugs, a tea strainer that had never made contact with any toxic chemicals, and boiled the kettle, Sherlock was happily settled on the sofa. His feet were resting on the coffee table and his hands rested on his rather enormous stomach. Two weeks after his official due date the man was going more than a little insane – at least today he wasn’t tearing his hair out and barley restraining himself from punching his abdomen. Two days ago when the doctor had given him seven days before they’d have no choice but to induce the labour at the hospital he’d somewhat flown off the rails. As if hormonal Sherlock  _before_  hadn’t been bad enough.

John shuddered as the kettle whistled and poured the water into the mugs, the scent of the tea quickly filling the kitchen.

After dumping the leaves in the bin John walked back out to his partner, who’s eyes immediately snapped open. Sherlock hummed by way of thanks and took the mug from John’s hand, taking a sip and immediately scowling.

“John,” the blond man raised an eyebrow, sitting down next to Sherlock on the sofa and sipping his own tea, “This is disgusting.”

John had to heavily resist the urge to hit the man, having trailed across half of London in search of the particular beverage.

“I thought you said you’d do anything to get that baby out of you? The more tea you drink, the sooner you get to meet it.”

Sherlock looks from John to ‘it’ a few times before scrunching his nose and gulping the tea down.

“Fine, but they’re certainly going to owe me if they ever decide to make an appearance.”

***

Three mugs of tea later Sherlock still lay on the sofa, having sunk even further into the chair and looking about ready to pass out – the warm tea settling in his stomach and making him feel oddly content. John, understandably anxious to disturb the now peaceful man, leaned forward to pick up the mugs and was considering maybe updating his blog and doing the dishes just as Sherlock cursed loudly.

So much for that, then.

Sherlock’s eyes opened wide and a hand flew to his stomach, something about the look on his face raising alarm bells in John’s head and instantly making him tense up. Then Sherlock swore again, swinging his feet off the table and pushing himself (with a great amount of effort) into a standing position. John decided to ignore the now broken mug that Sherlock kicked off the table in favour of jumping up to follow his partner, who stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

John’s hand hovered on the door, ready to knock, just as he heard Sherlock call at him to “Bloody well piss off.”

Two minutes later the toilet flushed and Sherlock emerged from the bathroom looking a curious combination of embarrassed and extremely annoyed. John's just on the verge of asking what happened when Sherlock holds up a hand, “Your bloody child kicked me in the bladder.” He awkwardly bent over and retrieved the jar of chillies from a long forgotten shopping bag. “I think it’s time for round two.”

***

Once again, Sherlock made himself comfortable on the sofa and John joined him, the two staring at the jar of chillies apprehensively. After a moment John took the jar from his pregnant partner and popped the lid off, wincing at the stench of the brine that diffused into the air immediately. An idea popped into John’s head and he all but jumped up from the sofa, causing Sherlock to grunt in discomfort. He stumbled over to the telly and opened the DVD port, before grinning and shutting it again.

“I’ve got season two of  _Doctor Who_.”

Sherlock blinked and frowned, pulling a chilli from the jar and watching it closely. “So?”

John grinned again, switching the TV on and changing the source from ‘Freeview’ to ‘DVD’. “Episodes twelve and thirteen are the saddest episodes of the lot – I read somewhere having a good cry can help induce labour. Might as well try that and the chillies, yeah?”

Sherlock scowled, biting into the chilli, “I highly doubt I will be reduced to tears by a TV drama about an alien that flies around in a 1960’s style police telephone box.”

Raising an eyebrow, John dropped down next to Sherlock and reached over for his own chilly. “Come on, just try it. At the very least you’ll get to laugh at your hard army doctor sobbing over a TV show he’s seen a million times.” The titles started, showing the aforementioned telephone box flitting through a time vortex, and Sherlock snorted.

“John, you are effectively made of kittens. I would not be in the least bit surprised if you cried at this... trash.”

John decided not to mention Sherlock tearing up just two weeks ago as Joe died in  _The Village_  and instead hummed, settling back down to watch ‘Army of Ghosts’.

***

Two hours, one jar of chillies, and almost an entire pineapple later, John finds himself pinned under one incredibly clingy consulting detective and about 11kg of extra weight that hadn’t been there nine months ago. The detective was sniffing and his eyes were watering but he insisted it was due to the chillies and not the TV show – John opted to simply humour him. The baby was still only making its self known by kicking out at both of his fathers and as the afternoon merged into the evening Sherlock was exhausted. John shifted so that Sherlock’s arm was no longer digging into his back but instead looped round his shoulder and Sherlock blinked blearily.

“I think it’s probably time for bed, love.”

Sherlock scrunched his nose at the suggestion and nuzzled his head into John’s chest, “We haven’t tried the balloons yet.”

John smiled softly and ran a hand through Sherlock’s hair, chuckling slightly as the man all but purred in response. “I know, but you’re clearly exhausted. Get some sleep and we can try again in the morning.”

Sherlock paused for a moment before nodding his assent, sitting up with assistance from John and practically leaning on the man all the way to the bedroom.

And if he felt a slight twinge down below, he ignored it.

Besides; that’s a story for another day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, kudos and comments make me super happy :-)


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